Fay Maschler reviews Brasserie Gustave

"I will be jealous of that tower, it is more famous than me", so said (in translation) Gustave Eiffel about the structure his company designed that became symbolic of Paris. Now he can rest content since this brasserie that specifically evokes him — the quote above is on the business card — restores faith, in London anyway, in eating and drinking à la Française. Sensibly, it has opened in South Kensington, a neighbourhood where French is the second language.

My first impression is that everything about the venue seems corny, from the lettering on the façade to the copies of Art Deco posters and illustrations from La Vie Parisienne on the yellow walls plus a list of dishes that a quick once-over renders as despondently predictable. And Richard Weiss, manager and sommelier, who at another posting I once compared to Gérard Depardieu, has lost weight and could no longer get a job as the star of Welcome to New York’s body double.

But slowly, over the course of a dinner and a lunch, my companions and I are captivated. Chef Laurence Glayzer and other members of the kitchen and front-of-house team have worked with Weiss before at Brasserie Jacques in St. James’s. Gustave is a comeback production with the sort of rhythm of service that speaks of patient practise and golden hits.

In France, Glayzer worked with Marc Meneau at L’Espérance in Vézelay, a chef and restaurant I once — quite a long time ago — thought was as good as it gets. He also toiled in the kitchens of Georges Blanc in Vonnas and Bernard Loiseau at La Côte d’Or in Saulieu — like learning to drive in classic cars.

It is we, the modern customer, who needs to be re-educated to revel in receiving dishes when it suits us — not the kitchen — to feel no pressure to share, to trust the sommelier to lead us knowledgeably down paths of discovery and take pride in getting us to a place where we spend less than we anticipated and, by the way, enjoy a burble rather than a battlefield of conversation. It can be easy to forget that sometimes the good old days were good.

Pieces of roasted bone marrow are arranged as if the architect Frank Gehry was brought in as consultant soon after designing the Walt Disney Concert Hall in LA. A red wine reduction is sharp enough to interrupt their essential unctuousness, which is also a function of the leaf salad (not parsley and gherkin as promised) served alongside.

Tiny croutons in the parsley and garlic emulsion in which six snails bathe are a deft textural intrusion. The dimpled serving dish is crowned with a knot of puff pastry. Comme il faut (as it should be) is a useful French expression and it can be applied to chilled vichyssoise with a poached quail’s egg.

All the while Weiss is suggesting wines and letting us try and then buy his suggestions. A large store of bottles to serve by the glass is in a fridge handily nearby.

Josmeyer Mise du Printemps Pinot Blanc 2013 is one I’ll pass on. Like Richard, it comes from Alsace. Mas Des Caprices Le Blanc de L’Oeuf, like many of his selections, is biodynamic. “The more you drink biodynamic wines, the better it is for the climate,” he intones. “The Alsatian Brian Blessed”, as he has been described, can be a card but he knows when to fold.

You do want him around for the tableside service of hand-cut steak tartare further chopped, chivvied and seasoned to suit requirements and later for crêpes Suzette a la Victor, a masterful performance resulting in a picture that could be titled Pancakes Sublimation to Sweetness.

Sautéed veal kidneys with grain mustard cream sauce, chard and rice pilaf is chosen by my guest at dinner and then again by the chum at lunch. Both times the recipients swoon, or sort of, and later email to say they are determined to return. Dee says the kidneys remind her — the rice simmered in stock especially — of eating in Burgundy.

Osh says the dish has entered his list of five favourite things this year — this coming from a chap who eats out at least three times a day.

He and I share a Tarte Tatin, which he describes as “delirium, the best side of ebullient”. Rolled dark chocolate sticks are crossed on top as if to sanctify what those two sisters Stephanie and Caroline Tatin set in motion one day when, harassed and hurried in their little hotel in Lamotte-Beuvron, they clapped the pastry on top of sizzling syrupy fruit.

On the set-price lunch menu beetroot tartare with crème fraîche is sparkier than it has any right to be and grilled bavette with a tangle of green and yellow courgettes, frites and sauce Bordelaise the sort of satisfactory assembly we imagine that any brasserie in Paris will provide. But mostly they don’t any more. Gustave has had to come to London.